


A Scarecrow, Standing On One Foot

by patriciaselina



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: (sort of), 49 Days AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, Gen, Ghost Tadashi, Koreanovela AU, My First Work in This Fandom, POV Third Person Omniscient, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Spoilers, Tadashi Lives, Tags to be added as (IF) story gets updated, Tentative Oneshot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 11:32:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2730896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patriciaselina/pseuds/patriciaselina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Newsflash: there is no light at the end of the tunnel.</i><br/>Tadashi thinks he should’ve been warned about that, at the very least.</p><p> </p><p>Tadashi Hamada was not supposed to die today.<br/>(A 49 Days AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 손끝에 너를 느껴보려 해도  
> 자꾸 잊는다 매번 잊는다 만질 수도 없단걸  
>  _I try to feel you at the tip of my fingers_  
>  But I forget. I always forget that I can’t touch you.  
> \--Jung Il-Woo, [Scarecrow](http://stephanieisnotastupidcupid.wordpress.com/2011/04/20/lyric-ost-49-days-scarecrow-%ED%97%88%EC%88%98%EC%95%84%EB%B9%84-by-jung-il-woo-%EC%A0%95%EC%9D%BC%EC%9A%B0/)

_Newsflash_ : there is no light at the end of the tunnel.

Tadashi thinks he should’ve been warned about that, at the very least.

Instead, all there is in here is the dark, too much of the dark, and at his feet, a blazing, whirling inferno. Or maybe he’d just ended up in hell. Seeing as he’d just left the little brother he’d sworn to love and protect to a life where he lost not only his parents, but also his big brother...yup, Tadashi definitely deserves it.

... _shit_. He’d left Hiro outside, just right beside this blazing mess the building had been reduced to. He didn’t even stay long enough to check if he’d been safely escorted away from the entrance, away from his stupid, _stupid_ self. Crap. What if Hiro had followed him in?

Then again, after he’d grown up and cared about acting cool, Hiro had never really followed him around places anymore. Following around like a lost puppy was Tadashi’s job, now, and now he can’t even do that because by now he’s little more than ashes like the rest of everything anyway –

“Wait a sec, stop there, I think I’m getting something!”

“Yeah, it’s probably another piece of debris – shit, is that a freaking _body_?”

“It’s unbelievable. Hold on, I think I’m getting a pulse!”

...okay, maybe he’s a _little_ bit more than ashes. It’s a small relief. At the very least, Aunt Cass and Hiro could be sure of the fact that the ashes they’d scatter over the family gravestone would actually be his and not of some dearly departed cardboard box or folding chair.

At the very least, Aunt Cass was still here. After everything Hiro’s got to deal with, Tadashi doesn’t think he’d take too kindly to the idea of fixing up his funeral. Neither does Aunt Cass, as a matter of fact – the Hamada brood is large and stretches far beyond San Fransokyo city lines, but as far as she’s concerned he knows they’re the closest thing she gets to an actual nuclear family – but well, she’s gotten increasingly better at adulting as the years passed. Tadashi thinks his parents would’ve been so proud of her.

Speaking of. Where were his parents, anyway? Weren’t they supposed to be here, chewing his ears out for getting himself burnt to a crisp? Because he’s dead?

“You’re not dead,” a voice says, as if it was behind him, and for a single hopeful second he lets himself believe that it’s a truth someone else told him and not his own mindless wishful thinking. The voice sighs, however. “No, seriously. You’re not dead. Why aren’t you looking at me?”

Because there’s nothing else to be looking at, what with all the black darkness and blazing flame everywhere – _oh_. Wait. Suddenly he can see his hands again, and they’re not soot-encrusted or crispy golden brown like they ought to be, after that fire – maybe that’s just one of the perks of being a ghost?

Another perk being that, when the medics rushing out a stretcher from the burnt building pass by, they go _through_ Tadashi like he wasn’t even there. It’s actually not a perk, but Tadashi pretends it is anyway. Feeling like your insides were scooped out and turned inside out because a couple of guys decided to go through the side way, yay.

“I’m a ghost.” Tadashi says, deadpan.

“No shit, Sherlock,” the other person says. Tadashi looks beside him and sees a young woman, probably a bit older than he is ( _was_ ), brown hair, bright eyes, vaguely familiar but definitely nobody he’d seen before. She’s wearing this shiny-ish biker jacket that kind of reminds him of Gogo, but not exactly. “It took you _this_ long to notice?”

“I’m a ghost,” Tadashi says, once more, this time, with feeling. “So I _definitely_ couldn’t be anything else but dead.”

“Nuh-uh. Not on _my_ watch, hun.” The woman says, clicking her tongue in annoyance, whipping out a touchscreen smartphone. It doesn’t look like anything he’d seen before, but it vaguely resembles some Apple-Samsung mashup done right, the kind of thing Hiro might’ve loved if he’d been into flashy phones, all HD graphics and candy apple red backing. “You weren’t even a blip on my radar before you decided, for some reason, that turning yourself into fried human was more fun than, I dunno, _breathing_. See?”

She thrusts the phone screen into Tadashi’s face, stopping millimeters short from punching him in the face with it, and...well, it’s not an app Tadashi’s remember seeing on anyone else’s phone, ever. It almost looks like some social networking site, what with it having Tadashi's name/age/location and his SFIT ID picture, but for the fact that there’s a jumble of numbers under it. Some kind of timer?

“See? You’re not supposed to hit your zeroes anywhere near this decade. So believe me when I say you’re not dead. ‘Cuz you’re not _supposed_ to die. Not yet.” The woman says, locking her phone screen with an irritated huff, her hands on her hips. “You dying now would make things go off-schedule. And I _hate it_ when things go off-schedule.”

“Yeah, sorry for that, I guess, but I don’t think there’s anything we can do about it. I’m dead now, okay?” Between leaving Hiro to a cruel brotherless world and leaving everyone else on this lesser plane, Tadashi thinks he’s got better things to be sorry for than this woman and her schedule. Even if listening to her rant about how he’s not supposed to be dead yet awakens some stupid hopeful part of himself.

Before Tadashi could tell said hopeful part of himself to please shut up and come to terms with reality, the woman takes his hand in hers – so ghosts can touch other ghosts without slipping through each other, interesting – and slowly, surprisingly _gently_ , drops something in it. A metal chain and some sort of glass – a pendant, maybe? Why is she giving him _jewelry_?

“You’re dead now, but you’re really not supposed to be, so here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m giving you forty-nine days. Give me three people crying for you out of love – pure, embarrassing, unsubtle love. Then hey _presto_ , you’ll be alive again, and wouldn’t that be nice and dandy.” Then she gives him a phone, a bit like hers but done up in cyan, with her usual brusqueness. “And here’s how you’re gonna get hold of me. Don’t contact me unless it’s _really_ important – I’ve got tons and _tons_ of work to do, and if you ever mess it up I will bring you back to life just so I can strangle you _myself_.”

“Um. Thanks.” Tadashi says, curiously looking at the woman in front of him. He wonders what things her ‘work’ entails, exactly. “Thank you, Miss...?”

“Cut it out with the _‘Miss’_.” And _there_ goes another point to the idea of this woman actually being Gogo’s long-lost not-Korean-looking twin sister. “You can just call me the Scheduler, that’s my job after all.” The woman says, matter-of-factly, fixing him with an even glare. “Speaking of. It’s time to get you to where you’re supposed to be.”

The Scheduler walks to him, almost toe-to-toe with him, and she has to look up to see his face. Then her hand goes up to touch his forehead, and then –

It’s darkness all over again.

Tadashi doesn’t know how much time had passed, or where the hell this new dark place is, but what he does know is that when he ‘wakes up’ – for lack of a better, more specific term – he wakes up to a flurry of code. _Very familiar_ code.

Code he’s written himself.

Must be Baymax, then.

Wait – _Baymax_?? Did the Scheduler just seriously put him in _Baymax_? And if she did, that means that somewhere around here must be...

There. There he is. Still in one of those ratty hoodies he’s always preferred (Tadashi wonders, dimly, if he’s figured out the GPS trackers in them yet), his hair framing his face, which seems to be gaunt and hollowed out with grief. It’s not the look of someone who’s pretty much lost everything, not _yet_ , but it’s pretty close and Tadashi knows that _he_ was the one who put Hiro in that state. It’s all _his_ fault, and he’s _sorry_ , sorry for being hoity-toity selfless for Professor Callaghan’s sake, not even realizing how selfish he had been for not being there when Hiro had needed him the most.

That’s what Tadashi’s _supposed_ to say, but the thing about being in a robot with automatic responses coded into the brain is that he’s not supposed to speak out of turn. Well, maybe he _could_ , eventually – Baymax has a self-teaching AI, of course, and now that Tadashi figures he’s somewhere deep in the midst of his hard drive he wagers he could code a way to let his responses co-mingle with Baymax’s, somehow – but not now, not when Tadashi’s still so busy wrapping his brain around the fact that he _is_ his robot at the moment.

So instead of saying any of those things, Tadashi – no, _Baymax_ – raises his hand in greeting, and says,

“ _Hello, I am Baymax. Your personal healthcare companion_.”


	2. Chapter 2

When he’s not inhabiting Baymax – which is to say, pretty much more often than he expected, seeing as the Scheduler told him that beings with no will to live are the easiest ones to inhabit and Tadashi’s pretty sure there is no being, robot or human, who can have half of Baymax’s vivacity for living and not spontaneously implode somehow – Tadashi lingers around the room he and Hiro used to share.

Wait. The room he and Hiro _do_ share. If this all works out he’ll still be alive, right?

“ _Finally_ , he gets a positive thought.” The Scheduler grumbles, effortlessly making her way through the room as per usual of her – somewhere in the middle of his days Tadashi had been able to have this happen _without_ flinching clean out of his ghostly body, but it looks like today isn’t one of those lucky days. “ _What_? Were you expecting anyone else? Your baby bro isn’t exactly the type to have visitors ‘round, you know.”

“I _do_ know that.” Hiro’s never been the social type. In fact, when Tadashi (as Baymax) had tried to get Hiro to go out and have fun with his friends, Hiro had scrambled to stop Tadashi from letting the call go through. It _would’ve_ worked, probably, if only Baymax’s data transfer hadn’t been way quicker than Hiro’s swiping. “I’m just really not used to the whole ‘popping-out-of-nowhere’ thing, okay? Geez.”

“Poor little Hamada, out of tune with how spirits work. We can do teleporting and stuff, _genius_.” The Scheduler says, one of her elegant fingers reaching up to poke Tadashi in the temple. “Me, I just prefer riding my bike when I have the time – much, much more fun that way – but for tedious things like when I have to pop all over San Fransokyo to check on you, I’d prefer to just teleport. It’s easy. You should try it sometime, you know, but I do understand if you think it’s more fun to just watch over your little brother creepily as he sleeps.”

“I’ll think about it,” Tadashi mutters, offhandedly, before he stills, and realizes the tail part of that sentence. “And for the record, stop making me sound like a main character from a trashy romance novel. _Gross_.”

“Still, though. You just sit in the bean bag chair and watch him doze off without even a freaking trace of boredom. For shame, Hamada. For _shame_.”

“Well, it’s just a big brother thing, okay? I feel at ease when I know Hiro’s safe.” Tadashi says. “Did you have siblings, Scheduler?”

It’s just a single drop in the wellspring of a moment, but it still counts – the Scheduler, who Tadashi’s known in the past few days to be nothing but brash and cocky and the epitome of snark, averts her eyes, and fiddles with the zippers of her jacket. “No _personal_ questions, Hamada. We agreed on that.”

“Oh. Right.”

There is a beat of silence, _terribly_ awkward silence, and then -

There Baymax goes, partly deflated, clambering weakly up the stairs like a drunken man. That wasn’t something Tadashi _specifically_ programmed into Baymax as a response to running low on battery, but hey, it was hilarious, okay. He takes a few tentative steps closer to the stairwell, closer to make out the words he can faintly hear Hiro saying (what was he doing out this late? If he’s gotten into bot-fighting _again_ , Tadashi _swears_ ), and then, out of nowhere, Tadashi suddenly gets beaned in the face by fluffy cat.

Well, not _exactly_ ‘in the face’ – it’s more like ‘ _through_ the face’, to be honest, as poor little Mochi’s been tossed hard enough to land a couple yards behind him. (Let it be said that Hiro’s gotten a rather impressive throwing arm.) Still. _Ouch_.

From behind him, the Scheduler snorts out laughter, even doing the old-time cliché of slapping her knee as she does so. “ _God_ , Hamada, the look on your face is _priceless_ , just thought you should know.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Tadashi says, his ghostly cheeks traitorously pink, and he’s about to say something else but then Baymax takes a step forward, with that squishy squelchy balloon-y sound, and blinks, once, twice.

Looking straight at _him_.

Okay, so this is weird. Tadashi knows he’s hella smart, but he’s pretty sure he’s not smart enough to have installed a third eye-ish mechanism into his healthcare robot. That would’ve been useful, in a roundabout way, he thinks now, but there is no way, no how, that he could’ve ever done that, whether accidentally or on purpose. (Hiro might’ve done that, though, if he wanted to.)

“Scheduler,” Tadashi mutters, gravely, not daring to take his eyes off Baymax, as if any sudden movements of his would alert the robot to his presence. As if Baymax were some kind of balloon dinosaur. “Are you _seeing_ this?”

“Yeah,” the Scheduler says, clearing her throat, equally as gravely. “I see it.”

Suddenly, just as quickly as he seemingly ‘noticed’ Tadashi, Baymax blinks drunkenly again, before ramming forward – Tadashi has to become one with the wall, if only to avoid the weird hollow sensation of been passed through – to take Mochi in his squishy white arms. “Hairy baby!”

Tadashi blinks owlishly in confusion, as the Scheduler laughs once more. “Oh my god, Hamada, you’re a _riot_. I definitely don’t regret sticking with you, you’re _hilarious_!”

“You’re having _way_ too much fun with this,” Tadashi sighs, running a hand to his hair. He knows he doesn’t really need it, but he thinks he misses his cap right about now.

Hiro bounds up the stairs then, all fidgety and wound tight with nerves, and he’s just so _close_ to Tadashi that the elder suddenly finds himself unable to breathe. His hair is still disheveled. His face still less chubby than he remembers, still worn down by sadness. But there’s a glint of fondness in his eyes when he looks down at the discharging Baymax, and Tadashi can’t help it, his hand goes out to touch his face.

“Hamada, _don’t_.” The Scheduler hisses, nearly too late – Hiro looks around with a start, looking from floor to ceiling, as if he’d thought if Tadashi were here he’d be somehow capable of flying. Which can only mean one thing. It’s a sobering thought. “We’re already pushing enough of our luck as we are right now, staying here and all.”

“Funny, I didn’t think we had _any_ luck right now to be pushing, what with us being really close to dying and all.” Tadashi snaps back. “And of course I have to be here. I’m gonna be in Baymax’s code, aren’t I?”

“You _know_ what I mean, Hamada.” And in the back of his mind, Tadashi knows he does. It won’t be the best of ideas for him to let Hiro be aware of his presence right now. As if he isn’t going through _enough_ already. “ _Focus_.”

So he does.

Focusing tells him that Hiro’s slumped in front of his computer now, checking his mail with a dull-eyed fervor. And there his friends all are – Tadashi’s friends, _Hiro’s_ friends, one and the freaking same, as Tadashi intended it to be in the first place – all huddled around Honey Lemon’s cell phone camera as they profess to being worried about him. Hiro closes the window in the middle of Fred describing how he’d hypothetically go through the screens to give him a hug – a shame, seeing as his _kaiju_ -loving friend was always a good one with the hypotheticals.

God, Tadashi knows he misses being alive, misses being able to live and breathe and laugh with Hiro and Aunt Cass down to the very marrow of his bones, but he also misses his friends. His dorky, awkward, imperfectly _perfect_ friends.

“You’ve surrounded yourself with a hell of a lot of nice people, haven’t you, Hamada?” the Scheduler says, almost softly, gently. “If one day they just suddenly decide to go up and miss the hell out of you, you’ll be back in your body without even batting an eyelash.”

“But it doesn’t work that way.” she keeps going on, as, in the background, Tadashi can see Hiro staring wistfully at the computer screen. Looks up, to the SFIT ad Tadashi staple-gunned to his side of the wall. Bites back tears. Tadashi wants to hold Hiro in his arms and never let go, but he can’t. “Humans normally cry for the things they’ve loved and lost. Your friends, they believe in you too much to let you go. You’ve never been lost to them. Hence, dry eyes.”

“Are you saying that Hiro...doesn’t _believe_ in me enough?” It’s not an accusation, but it’s definitely phrased like one. Sounds like one, too.

“Nah. I did say ‘ _normally’_ , after all.” the Scheduler shrugs, goes back to the wall she was leaning against. “Your bro doesn’t cry ‘cuz he _already_ lost you. He cries because he _could_ lose you, just as easily as I snap my fingers, and this has only occurred to him right now. Just so you know, under all the cool teenager-ing, he thinks you’re one of the essential constructs of life. Like oxygen and bad horror movie remakes.”

Tadashi doesn’t know what the hell to say to that, but he thinks of Hiro thinking him to be an essential part of life and. Just. There’s a fluffy Baymax-soft feeling in his chest that he thinks he doesn’t wanna let go of.

“Tadashi.” Baymax says, turning towards his direction. “ _Tadashi_.”

“Crap,” Tadashi says, taking careful, mincing steps backward, and almost bumping into the Scheduler. “Told you he _can_ see me.”

“No he couldn’t, genius. You’re smart, but not _that_ smart.” the Scheduler says. “He’s looking at your bed, silly.”

Lying on top of his bed is his San Fransokyo Ninja cap, and Tadashi’s fingers itch to restore it on its rightful place on his head. Only how would that even work? The cap would pass right through him, no doubt.

“Where’s Tadashi?” Baymax asks, blinking innocently, not knowing of the tears Hiro keeps blinking away. His poor, precious little brother.

“He’s not here. He’s in the hospital.” Hiro says, standing up and barely bumping into Tadashi as he moves to close the sliding screen splitting the room into two. As if he was preserving it for his return. “Won’t be back for a while.”

“Why is he in the hospital? I don’t understand. When I last scanned him, he was in excellent health.” Baymax says, matter-of-factly, his head swiveling to follow Hiro, slumping back on his computer chair. “With a proper diet and regular exercise, I fail to see the need for him being confined in a hospital anytime soon.”

“Yeah, but there was a fire, so.” Hiro shrugs, trying to look nonchalant, and failing. “Can’t really argue with that.”

“I’m sorry,” Baymax says. It’s an ingrained response, but not one meant for patients who are still alive – hence the robot awkwardly hemming and hawing afterwards, because he can’t go say “I’m sorry for your loss,” not when Tadashi’s technically _not_ lost, yet.

“Nah, it’s nothing, Baymax. It wasn’t your fault, it was an accident – wait.” Hiro stops, his eyes flying wide open, his jaw set in a tight line. “What if it _wasn’t_ an accident?”

Hiro goes then in a flurry of motion and exaggerated hand gestures, herding Baymax off his charging pod and back down the stairs. Tadashi watches them go, blinking in confusion – did he just miss something? – and is about to ask the Scheduler, only to be distracted by a bright bluish-white light emanating from somewhere near his collarbone.

The necklace?

“What’s happening?” Tadashi says, trying not to panic. Failing anyway.

“Aw, shucks, it’s nothing, Hamada.” the Scheduler says, smirking as the light fades away, dissipating into nothing but a circular bubble-shape in the bulbous tip of the glass pendant. “One down, two to go.”

 

==

 

“I never really told ya how Tadashi and I met, did I.”

“On the contrary, sir, I think you did.” Actually, he _didn’t_ , but he might as well could have, what with the fact that for the first few weeks Tadashi Hamada was all he could talk about. But that’s nothing worth splitting hairs over. “He had complimented you on your costume.”

“You bet he did. Fredzilla version 1.0.” Fred says, watching the amber liquid slosh through the spaces in between the ice cubes. Really a lot like his father in more ways than one, the young master is. Heathcliff wonders if he’ll take up the family responsibility one day, and thinks that – casual clothing and odd beanies aside – he could think of no one else better suited for the task. “Normally, when you see the school mascot guy, you’ll _laugh_ , right? Make fun of him. But not Tadashi, he’s just so _chill_ about everything. I mean, Iceman doesn’t have anything against his chill. Or Loki. I mean that in a good way, of course.”

“Of course,” Heathcliff agrees, although as per usual, whatever the analogy would have meant is flying over his head. He steps forward, refilling the young master’s drink. “You were saying.”

“Anyway, he didn’t even care that I wasn’t a fancy science or engineering major like the rest of them were. Neither did any of them, of course, but, well, Tadashi was – is – something else. Just takes you in like you’re a part of his family. Do people even do that anymore?” Fred quips, rhetorically, drawing his knees closer to his chest. “I didn’t even have to tell him about all, well, this. About you and the family estate, the family island. All that mattered was that I was plain little ol’ me. Fred. The comic book fan who keeps giving ‘em food nicknames.” A shuddering intake of breath, and then, “God, I miss him. This sounds amazingly freaking sappy, and also is the most obvious thing to be said ever, but I miss him. I never really got to thank him, yanno?”

A single tear, almost brilliantly resplendent in its purity, finds its way into the young master’s drink. And another, and another. Heathcliff offers him a box of tissues.

“Thanks a bunch, Heathcliff. You’re the man.” If he wasn’t so busy clearing his nose loudly on a handful of tissues, Fred would’ve followed that up with his so-called ‘fistbump’. It almost, but not quite, makes Heathcliff want to smile. “I never really got to thank him. For befriending this awkward dorky kid who never really fit in anywhere, giving him a place to belong. I wish I still could. He deserves to know how freaking grateful I am.”

“I’d wager he already knows about your gratefulness, Young Master.” Heathcliff says, watching without judgment as Fred keeps on scrubbing at his tears.

The young master’s never really had friends before, except for that one time in third grade – well, if you can count opportunistic young heirs under the definition of ‘friends’, which Heathcliff definitely does not do so. So, yeah, Mister Hamada is Young Master Frederick’s first actual honest-to-goodness friend, and the other young man’s comatose state really did a number on his young charge.

“Woulda’ been nice of me to put it into words, though,” Fred blubbers, giving up on tissue and scrubbing his nose on the sleeves of his colorful, oversized shirt. “Just. ‘ _Thanks, Tadashi. Sorry I couldn’t come up with a nickname for ya, bro, but Wasabi spilled wasabi, Gogo likes scrambled eggs, Honey has a sweet tooth, and you’ve never really had any really stand-out food memories_.’“ He chuckles, wryly. “Well, except for the time when he absolutely freaked out ‘cuz Hiro almost ate the thing with the sauce that had peanut in it. Such a big mother hen, I can’t even.”

“I’m sure you’ll get to tell him that, young master.” Heathcliff’s never been one for empty platitudes, but – this isn’t one of them. He had made sure that the injured Hamada had been confined in only the best hospital that San Fransokyo could provide, under orders from the young master’s father. They had passed it off as if it were one of the free amenities SFIT had to offer – not an easy thing to do, but definitely easier than the whole _‘passing-off-the-young-master-as-inconsequential-normal-student’_ thing he did some years ago. “He _will_ wake up, and you will get to tell him how much your friendship means to you, which, if I may just add, is most probably something he knows already, what with how you’re close friends and all.”

“Thanks, Heathcliff.” Fred says, red-rimmed eyes finally dry, smiling a watery smile. “And yeah, Tadashi’ll be fine. I hope so.”

“I _know_ so.” Heathcliff says, hiding a little smile behind the fluid movements of his arm. “Now, young master: more apple juice?”

**Author's Note:**

> Tentative title is tentative. Hm.
> 
> Hello there BH6 fandom! This is my first fic about Big Hero, and as per usual for me, it’s an AU – a K-drama AU, nonetheless. To be specific, it's a [49 Days](http://wiki.d-addicts.com/49_Days) AU, and I know I've pretty much spoiled stuff in the tags somehow, but meh. Anyway, Abigail's the Scheduler for no other reason than I wanted a mostly not-alive character to play Scheduler to Tadashi's Ji-hyun. That she comes off sassier than I intended her to be is just my personal preference.
> 
> Anyway, there is supposed to be a sequel to this - preferably one showing Tadashi's three tears, I've gotten the last one worked out and the first one might be Gogo (so I ship 'em pale, okay, sue me) but I've yet to figure out who the middle one would be? Hm. Let's see if I get to go through that, I guess, but I can't make any promises atm.
> 
> Hope you liked this, somehow!


End file.
